


A Tattoo Like a Smile

by StormEye7



Series: When a Hunter Loves a Titan [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 20:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormEye7/pseuds/StormEye7
Summary: As anybody who ever saw Nota Chance’s face would say, the Hunter had a rather prominent tattoo adorning her forehead. Some would laugh at it, some would ask her what it meant, others would simply ask her where she had gotten it. Nota would tell them, all of them, that she had absolutely no idea.





	A Tattoo Like a Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Another little short and sweet something I made for the RP server. I'm starting to enjoy doing stuff like this. Expect more in the future.

**The Last Safe City, Earth**

Nota Chance’s average morning was an odd sight to behold. The Awoken would awaken on the hour just before dawn, untangle herself from her lover's arms, submit herself to an almost icy-cold shower for far longer than the average person would be able to tolerate, clad herself in her apparel for the day and return to the bathroom to groom her tall, violet hair.

Nota stared deeply into the bathroom mirror of the apartment that she should probably consider to be her new home. It was the fourth day to follow her move-in to Quinn's place, and already she found herself following a self-imposed routine. A result of her decades of day-in, day-out work no doubt. As if donning the colours of the Tower's favourite nihilists, the Dead Orbit, gathering whatever information the fools trusted her with, and subsequently passing everything along to her superiors could be counted as “work”.

After brushing her purple plume to a tall, fine standard, Nota set aside her comb, running her gentle fingers through her pseudo-mohawk before placing both hands on either side of the sink she stood before, looking deeply into the wall-set mirror above it. After what might have been a few minutes of somewhat broody silence, Nota's gaze left the gleaming green irises of her reflection, moving slightly upwards, to a bold, black marking upon her forehead.

The design was simple: a fingertip sized dot placed maybe an inch and a half above the inner corners of each eye, with a small curve that stooped down to between her eyebrows to almost connect the two. To some, Warlocks for the most part, it appeared to be some strange, almost Hive-like rune. Simple, alien, yet oddly elegant. To others, which was the bulk of people it would seem, it was a rudimentary drawing of a smiling face.

With slow, gentle fingers, Nota brushed one of her gloved hands against the tattoo.

The verdict was still out, so to speak, regarding whether or not the tattoo was worth the trouble it had caused. On the one hand, it had more than once been a punchline for a juvenile joke, or the cause of random bouts of laughter whenever she met a stranger.

On the other hand, it was something of a reminder. Unlike most of the markings and symbols worn by the faces of her peers, Nota had been reborn with her’s. Since the day Nota had stepped out of the coffin that once been a mighty starfighter of the Awoken fleet, to the morning of present, that small, innocent face had continued to smile.

Nota was never one to admit the sentiment of something, quite the opposite in fact. Up until recently, the Hunter's heart had been as uncaring as a Vex’s, but in these mornings, where her mind had time to truly reflect, she couldn't help but see the poetics of it all.

Nota cast a glance over her shoulder, spying Quinn's gorgeous sleeping face through the bathroom’s open door. The Titaness would soon be awake as well. While Nota prided herself on the promptness she displayed towards her job, she was certain that she could find a viable enough excuse to delay her departure from the apartment.

One didn't earn the title of Lakshmi-2’s favourite informant by being a poor liar, after all.

Without fully knowing what she was doing, Nota brushed her hand back across her forehead. Perhaps the oddest thing about Quinn was that she had yet to utter a word about her marking. She had yet to laugh, point it out, ask what is was, or ask what it meant. She simply… didn't mention it. As if it wasn't even there. Somehow, this made the Hunter love her even more.


End file.
